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“The mine tunnel has another exit. If you want to trap them like turtles in a jar[1], that black powder will be perfect.” He Lingchuan pointed at Jiao Tai. “He knows exactly where that mine exit is.”
Zeng Feixiong was overjoyed. Then, he cupped his fist and said, “Many thanks, Young Master!”
The title stabbed straight into He Lingchuan’s chest, reminding him of Mao Tao’s death. He waved a hand. “Save it. Get the merit first, then come thank me after you succeed.”
Zeng Feixiong knew time was tight. With Jiao Tai still leading the way, he spurred his men on toward the mine.
While the two of them were speaking, He Chunhua pulled out a blank sheet of paper. In his haste, he could not be bothered to grind ink. He simply bit his fingertip, dipped it in blood, and scribbled a dozen characters.
He Lingchuan asked, puzzled, “Father?”
He Chunhua did not answer. He snatched up his mandate token, dabbed it in blood, and stamped it on the sheet. After that, he folded the paper and reached into his storage ring for something else.
It was a gray pigeon.
Everyone blinked. Only when they looked closely did they realize it was not a bird at all.
It was a mechanical puppet. It was a mechanical messenger bird.
He Chunhua opened a hidden compartment in its belly and slipped the...
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